


Your Number

by coffeeandcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel has no boundaries, Fluff, M/M, awkward!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9774395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcas/pseuds/coffeeandcas
Summary: Castiel has a question. Who better to ask than Dean?





	

“Dean?”

“Cas?”

Dean mimics his friend’s gruff baritone, and licks a smear of peanut butter off his thumb. Cas pulls out a chair and takes a seat opposite, eyeing the PB&J wistfully; sometimes, he really did miss being human. He wouldn't trade his grace for anything in the universe, but a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich would come close.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead, Cas. What's eatin’ ya?”

Cas frowns, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Nothing is eating me, Dean. As angels go, we are typically top of the universal food chain. In fact-”

“Turn of phrase, Cas.” Dean swallows a mouthful and chases it with a gulp of beer. Sam had gone out to find them something for dinner, but Dean had been unable to resist the grumblings of his stomach, and the bunker always seemed to be stocked with plenty of snacks these days. He has a feeling Cas has something to do with it. “What do you want to ask me?”

“Dean, how many people have you…been intimate with?”

Dean chokes, his eyes watering suddenly and he scrambles for his beer bottle. A blush spreads from his cheeks right up to the tips of his ears, and he has no idea why. Perhaps it's the way Cas worded it.

“Uhm, weird question, buddy. Why?”

“I've been contemplating a number of things since my time as a human. Human sexuality is incredibly complex, don't you think?”

Cas is staring at Dean with that piercing expression in his blue eyes, the one that makes Dean feel like his soul is exposed. He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable. Now would be a good time for Sam to walk back through the door with dinner.

“I, uh, I guess it is, yeah.”

“I was wondering if it gets easier to understand the more you engage in it. How many times have you engaged in it, Dean?”

“Cas,” Dean coughs to hide his embarrassment. “This is the type of shit teenagers ask each other, man, not fully grown men. We’re adults, we talk about other stuff.”

“Other stuff?”

“Yeah, like…beer. Cars. Food. Sport. Those sorta things.”

“You don't talk about sex as adults? It seems to me to be a very adult topic of discussion.”

“Well, yeah of course we do, but…”

“Should I have asked Sam?”

“No! God no. It's fine. Uhm…” Dean screws up his face and tries to count, but can't seem to come up with an accurate figure. He knows Cas wouldn't be shocked if it were particularly high, but even still he doesn't feel like hazarding a guess. “A few. Enough. But never enough, you know what I mean?” He smirks wickedly and quirks an eyebrow at Cas, who just stares back in serene confusion.

“Not exactly, Dean.”

“OK. I've been with plenty of women, is that the answer you're after? Enough to know what I'm doing, and enough to become pretty damn good at it.” He takes another bite of his sandwich, and before Cas can ask him anything else awkward he fires back: “So, your turn. What's your number?” Even though he's certain he already knows.

“My number…” Cas frowns, thinking, and Dean’s attention piques. If Cas has to consider the question so deeply, maybe there are things Dean really doesn't know about the stoic angel. He leans forward, licking jelly from his fingertips, and waits for an answer. Cas’ brow suddenly clears. “When I was a soldier in the garrison, we all had our own identification numbers. Mine was-”

“No! Cas!” Dean kicks back in his chair in exasperation, the front legs lifting off the ground. “Come on, buddy, you're not as dense as you used to be. Your number, the number of people you've…” He has to stop himself from using air quotes. “Been intimate with.”

“One.” Cas answers so immediately and with such firm conviction that Dean feels a swoop of disappointment for his friend.

“One? April? The Reaper?”

“Yes.”

“Wow Cas. You really need to get out there more. Not every woman you take to bed wants to kill you, you know? Did you not enjoy it?”

Cas contemplates his answer. “I did experience physical pleasure and satisfaction, yes.”

Dean rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh, earning him a glare from the angel. “Cas, the way you have with words, I tell ya. Maybe your next job should be less Gas ‘n’ Sip and more telephone operator…”

“I did wonder,” Cas interrupts, bringing Dean up short. “If it would be different with someone else. More…intimate, perhaps. I imagine it differs from person to person?”

“Oh it does, trust me.” Dean grins and shoves the last bite of his PB&J into his mouth, reaching for his beer just as Cas tilts his head, looks straight into Dean’s eyes and says:

“I wondered if it would be any different with you, Dean.”

And Dean chokes. Properly this time, his food going down the wrong way and sending him into a coughing fit. Cas’ face snaps in concern and gets up to pound Dean on the back until he can draw in a gasping breath. Cats has been wondering _what_? His mind instantly jump to the risqué images he keeps locked in his own filthy imagination and only takes out when he’s a little drunk, a little horny, and too frustrated to feel guilty about fantasising about his best friend while he gets himself off. He fumbles for his beer and finishes it in one long gulp, both to clear his throats and buy himself some time before answering.

“You…Cas, you've…thought about that?”

“Of course, Dean. I've come to understand that sex is more meaningful when it's with someone you care about, isn't that true? And I care about you, Dean. So I thought…”

“Well, don't think.” Dean passes a hand over his face, feeling a sweat break out on his brow. He can't handle this conversation. “We…we’re friends, Cas. You don't fantasise about sleeping with your friends. It's wrong. Don't do it.” What really feels wrong is shooting Cas down this way. Dean almost shivers with how much he dislikes it, but he wasn’t prepared for this conversation. Not now. He needs more time.

“But Dean-”

“No, Cas.” Dean forces down the swelling of what can only be described as hope in his chest. Cas cares for him. Cas cares for him, and has evidently been exploring those feelings in his own imagination. It sends a warm feeling spreading throughout Dean from the centre of his being and he has to fight down a smile of joy. The temptation is there, just below the surface, to tell Cas how he feels, how he's felt for months now, but he's just not ready. Not quite yet. But conversations like this help him inch closer. “It's not…I'm into women, Cas. It's not appropriate. I'm sorry. I'm not…we’re not…”

“Dean, are you forgetting that when I raised you from Hell I rebuilt every single part of you? Every atom in your body, every piece of your soul?” Cas is staring so intently at him that Dean is pinned in place, powerless to look away. Cas’ voice drops an octave, almost to a sultry purr, but the look in his eyes is nothing but open and reassuring. “I know how you feel, Dean. I know how ashamed you are of your desire to be with another man. You shouldn't have to feel this way, there's no reason to.”

Dean swallows a couple of times, feeling raw and exposed under Cas’ glittering blue gaze. He opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

“If I learned anything from my time as a human, it's that your precious lives are painfully short. Too short to deny yourselves the things you want. Fear is your worst enemy, Dean. You know this.”

Dean does know it. He knows it but at the same time he knows he's a victim of it. He's spent his whole life afraid: afraid of losing his father, afraid of losing Sam, afraid of being alone, and now afraid of losing Cas. Cas, the best friend he's ever had and the only person who really understands him possibly more than even Sam does. Dean’s other fear is a secret, hidden kind: the fear that Cas doesn't return his feelings, feelings buried so deep that sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever be able to dig them up and dust them off. But from the words coming out of Cas’ mouth, the angel doesn't share that particular fear.

A door sounds, somewhere deep in the bunker, and Dean licks his lips in an attempt to moisten his dry mouth. Sam’s back. And he's back at the perfect moment, because this conversation with Cas is about to take a wild turn to somewhere Dean isn't ready for. Cas stands up, adjusting his trench coat and pushing the chair back where it belongs. He starts to walk away, past Dean into the bowels of the bunker, but pauses for just a second and Dean swears he feels Cas’ fingers brush his shoulder. He doesn't dare look up at his friend, afraid of what he might see in his face. He just stares down at his clenched fists instead.

“Just so you know, Dean, if you ever want to explore those desires you have, without worrying about judgment or ridicule…I would be…amenable…to that…I would never judge you, Dean. I hope you know how much I care for you.”

And then he's gone, greeting Sam as he passes and leaving Dean feeling more confused than he can ever remember. He stands up and walks quickly to the fridge, his back to his brother as he dumps their dinner on the table, and tries to get his breathing and flushed cheeks under control. It was so like Cas to get under his skin then just wander off. And what exactly did he mean by ‘amenable’? Did he really mean…?

“You OK?” Sam asks him, around a bite of whatever rabbit food he's grazing on today.

“Fine.” Dean’s voice comes out a little strangled, but Sam is so focused on his dinner that he doesn't notice. “Just Cas…being Cas. Did you get burgers?” And after a moment or two of rooting awkwardly in the paper bag and avoiding Sam’s curious gaze,, Dean convinces himself that the awkward conversation with his angelic friend is forgotten.

But later that night, he spends a long time wondering just how amenable Cas would be if he ever gathered up the courage to spill his real feelings towards the angel, ones he's kept hidden and pushed down into that box marked Never Open, Ever, and realises he's now one step closer to that confession than he's ever been so far.

**Author's Note:**

> Customary tumblr plug: <http://coffeeandcas.tumblr.com>


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